


Roll for Initiative

by luminousgrace



Series: Tumblr Collection [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: D&D, Dungeon Master Cas, Dungeons & Dragons, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Castiel/Dean Winchester, roommate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19158067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminousgrace/pseuds/luminousgrace
Summary: The gang plays some D&D. Things quickly get out of hand, landing both Dean and Cas in an uncomfortable situation.





	Roll for Initiative

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the Fated comic by Jasmine Walls. You probably know the one. Unbeta'd.

“Your teammates are either incapacitated or unconscious. You are the world’s last hope of salvation. Your enemy is an angel, a celestial being against whom neither reasoning nor weaponry have been proven to be effective. You’ve won the initiative: what do you do?”

The question floats through the air, Cas’s low rumble granting it a unique solemnity. Every faces around the table turns towards Dean.

“Alright," Dean grins, throwing his die down confidently. “I roll to stab him through the heart.”

Next to him, Sam pulls a face.

“Seriously, Dean? You’re a rogue. You’re not even going to try for anything, I don’t know, stealthy? You know how bad your chances are?”

Dean smirks. “Never tell me the odds.”

When he see’s the outcome of his roll, however, Dean feels the grin drop off his face. “Uh.”

“Shit.” Sam groans, as Eileen pats him consolingly on the arm. “We were so close.”

Charlie sighs. “Well, it’s been nice knowing everyone.”

“If I may, I’d like to keep this moving.” Cas’s voice cuts through the chatter, and he glares sternly at each of them in turn.

Dean flushes under his gaze, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry man go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Clearing his throat, Cas begins to steadily narrate the outcome.

“With a critical fail, the knife does make contact. However, it does not appear to have any effect. Indeed, the angel reaches into his chest and pulls it out slowly, otherwise unharmed.”

“Furthermore,” Cas adds, amusement creeping into his tone. “At such close proximity you notice that the angel is very attractive, and as he brings his hand up to grip at your shoulder, you feel a sudden spark of electricity.”

Cas reaches across the table to demonstrate the action, his hand coming to rest warm and solid on Dean’s left shoulder. Unbidden, Dean’s stomach gives a pleasant swoop, and he feels his face warm.

“Well,” he says, “my bad I guess.”

“Alright, Cas,” Eileen signs, mercifully putting Dean out of his misery. “Time to get him back.”

Cas nods obligingly, withdrawing his hand. “Very well. The angel tightens his grip, preventing your escape. He raises his other hand to put you to sleep until he has further use for you in his plans.”

Their DM shakes his dice out onto the table, a frown line forming between his eyes. “Well that is… unfortunate,” he grumbles.

Sam cranes his neck forward, trying to see. “What’d you get?”

Cas doesn’t answer right away, but Dean is well-versed in reading the annoyed slump of his shoulders. “You fucking missed, didn’t you?”

Disgruntled, Cas jerks his head in acquiescence. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it.”

Before Dean can ask what he means, Cas is opening his mouth to continue the scene.

“While the angel had intended to get rid of you until further instructions were received, he finds himself hesitating. There’s something about this you that is enticing, drawing him in in a way that nothing else has in his millennia watching over Earth. Perhaps it’s the shine of your soul, the brightness greater than anything the angel had seen before. The colors are beautiful, and the angel finds himself leaning closer. Where before he had been prepared to simply zap you away, he now finds himself tugging you closer.”

Dean drops his face into his hands, cheeks burning. Relentlessly, Cas’s voice drones on.

“For the first time, the angel finds himself doubting the plans of his brothers and sisters. Surely something as lovely as this human does not deserve to serve as a pawn in Heaven’s scheme. Bringing a hand up, the angel cups his hand around your face protectively, as he has seen so many of your kind do. You shiver in his grasp, and he watches as your eyes drop to the mouth of his vessel. The angel has never experienced the physicality of human attraction before this day, it’s workings seemingly unnecessary and therefore unknown to him. For the first time, he discovers he wants to find out.”

The table explodes into laughter, and Cas shrugs unselfconsciously. Dean, however, squirms in his seat. Cas describing a fictional relationship between the two of them wasn’t exactly how he had planned for his day to go, and it’s left him feeling more than a little hot under the collar. Eager to get through the scene, Dean barely hesitates before flinging his die down.

“I roll to hit the banishing sigil we set up earlier. I don’t care who I have to get through to get there.”

The die hits the table, and Cas closes his eyes at the result. Dean thinks he may be silently counting to ten.

“With another critical fail,” Dean groans, “you stumble for the banishing sigil but find yourself faltering, and end up missing it by quite the mark.” Dean grimaces, but Cas isn’t done yet.

“The angel follows you, spinning you around in his grip. Before you know it, you feel your back hit the wall and then the angel is looming over you, eyes dark. You feel your breath coming faster. Here is an ancient creature, a being of power so immense that he could destroy you in the blink of an eye. Instead, he appears lost as he gazes at you, and you feel something in your chest tighten, wanting to erase that look.”

“Reaching up, you wind your arms around his neck, tugging him downward. He ducks his head easily, millennia of cosmic power submitting to the whims of a mere human such as yourself. The pull between you is undeniable, and you know without knowing how you know that you would be great together, perhaps even something entirely new. The thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should- in fact, the thought doesn’t scare you at all. Suddenly, you know his name where seconds before it had been a mystery to you. Leaning forward to brush your nose against his, you whisper it against his waiting mouth…”

The table erupts into laughter, and Dean groans. “Please end my fucking life. Cas, why the fuck did you name your character after yourself?”

“The NPC is an angel.” Cas says snippily, but Dean can see the pink dusting across his cheeks. “I am named after the angel of Thursday. It seemed… the most appropriate.”

“Oh, really. This seems appropriate, to you?”

Cas meets his eyes defiantly, but Dean can see that he’s embarrassed. “Well, I certainly wasn’t intending to start a romance with your character, of all people. Maybe in the future you should consider your rolls more carefully.”

Cas’s words strike a nerve he didn’t know existed and inexplicably, Dean finds himself lashing out.

“Really? Me of all people, huh? What’s the matter, Cas? Afraid you’ll like it?” Dean waggles his eyebrows to cover his own reddening face.

Cas opens his mouth to respond, and then seems to think better of it, cutting himself off. He looks, of all things, hurt.

Next to Dean, Charlie snickers, breaking them out of their glaring match. “I’m so glad I have 1 hit-point left so I can see this hot mess.”

Dean grits his teeth, locking eyes with his longtime roommate and soon to be former best friend. Dean knows that if he were truly uncomfortable Cas would relent in a heartbeat. It’s fun to pretend to be people they aren’t, but not to the point where it stops being enjoyable for the people involved.

The problem- Dean thinks bitterly, rolling his die in his hand- is that this is straying dangerously farther away from “pretending to act out a romance between two characters” and closer towards “Dean Winchester confessing his long time feelings for his in-real-life best friend and promptly gets rejected” territory.

Deep down, Dean knows he has no reason to be upset. It’s not as if it’s Cas’s fault that Dean’s too chickenshit to admit his feelings. But Dean’s been pining after this guy for-fucking-ever, and Cas is glaring at him like he’s the one whose feelings are being toyed with, and Dean thinks that maybe it’s time Cas gets a taste of his own medicine.

“Fuck it.” Choosing his words carefully, Dean flings his dice down with trembling hands, holding Cas’s eye while he does so. “I roll to seduce Cas.”

There’s a beat as the table watches in rapt attention. Then everyone starts speaking at once.

“Dean-”

“Holy shit-”

“Dude, that’s a 20-”

Steeling himself, Dean meets Cas’s gaze and is startled to find that it is, for the first time, uncertain. Dean had expected him to roll his eyes, to snap at Dean for prolonging the situation, or even tell him to re-roll entirely. Instead, he looks almost… wary? Dean falters for a moment, but as quickly as it’d come the look is gone, replaced with grim resignation.

Cas raises an eyebrow challengingly, as if to tell Dean to get on with it, and the unfairness of it all sends Dean catapulting way past stubbornness and straight into spite. Any hesitation forgotten, Dean’s opening his mouth to launch into a confession as lurid and sickeningly sweet as possible when Cas interrupts him.

“With a natural 20, you shouldn’t need to tell me what you do. It is enough to assume that you were successful in your seduction.” Cas clears his throat, continuing in a clipped voice that’s jarringly different form the storytelling tone he’d adopted previously.

“Swayed by your heartfelt speech, the angel sees the error of his ways. He agrees to betray his position with the enemy and in turn help you in preventing the end of the world.”

“Furthermore,” Cas falters for a moment, before seemingly steeling himself. “He is flattered by your professed affections and offers his own hand in marriage, to further cement the alliance. In this way, you have successfully cancelled the apocalypse. Congratulations,” Cas mutters, almost as an afterthought.

Charlie starts snickering first. This is quickly followed by Eileen’s laughter, and finally Sam’s bellowing guffaws fill the room.

Reaching over, Sam smacks Dean loudly on the back. “Didn’t know you had it in you, man. Can I be your best man?”

“Yeah.” Dean grins, but it feels forced, and something about the way Cas won’t quite meet his eyes across the table leaves him with a sinking feeling in his stomach “No sweat.”

On Dean’s other side, Charlie pretends to swoon, fanning herself. “You sure do know how to spin a proposition, Winchester. I don’t even know what you said but it must have been a tempting offer.”

Eileen’s laughing so hard she can barely talk, her hands flying to cover her mouth halfway through. “I’ll pay you real gold to be there when you introduce him to your parents.”

Cas doesn’t respond except to give them all a flickering smile. When Dean catches his eye, he abruptly stands from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to start cleaning up.”

Frowning, Dean cranes his head to look after him, but Cas keeps his head ducked low, quickly collecting the dishes and disappearing around the corner before Dean can catch a glimpse of his face.

Weird.

Eventually, the other three guests bow out with various excuses, leaving Dean to clean up the mess from tonight’s session. He shakes his head affectionately.

“Fucking freeloaders.”

When ten minutes slips into twenty without any sign of Cas’s return, Dean gives up any pretense of waiting and heads into the kitchen.

Cas is standing in front of the sink, drying the same glass over and over, gaze fixed somewhere a million miles away. Dean watches for a second before making his way over, dropping a hand to his shoulder and forcing cheer into his voice.

“How’s it looking?”

Cas startles so badly that the glass he’s holding tips over, clattering into the sink and sending dirty dish water everywhere.

“Dude,” Dean grimaces, reaching blindly for a towel to scrub at his face. “You okay?”

Cas pointedly does not look at him. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh, because you’ve been acting like a fucking weirdo all day? Come here.” Reaching over, Dean swipes at Cas’s face with a towel. “Gross.”

“Dean, just.” Cas breaks off, catches Dean’s wrist to tug his hand away. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to be alone right now.

Hurt, Dean retracts his hand. “Jeez, okay. Sorry, man.”

“It’s fine.” Cas turns away, but something about his clipped tone sparks Dean’s earlier irritation.

“Okay, what’s your deal? Did I do something?”

Cas ignores him.

“I mean, if I did could you at least let me apologize like a normal fucking adult?”

Cas sighs, rubbing at the glass with more force than necessary. “I said it’s fine, Dean.”

“Is it about the game?” Dean presses, because Cas is pissed at him for something he started, then Dean has a right to know.

Cas doesn’t answer, but the way he tenses, entire body stiffening is a dead giveaway.

“I mean,” Dean scratches at the back of his head, not even hiding the hurt creeping into his voice. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but you started it. It’s just a game, man.”

Cas’s fingers go white on the dishcloth. “Exactly, Dean.” He snaps, voice bitter. “It’s a game. It isn’t-” Cas breaks off, flushing red and returning his focus to the now completely dry dish.

Dean frowns. He’s got a pretty good grasp on Cas over their six years of friendship, likes to think he knows him about as well as he knows himself. That’s why Dean knows Cas doesn’t feel the same way he does, that Dean is doomed to wallow in his feelings indefinitely.

But Cas could at least have the decency to not be a dick about it.

“Yeah, okay.” Dean can’t help the resentment that rises up sour and sharp in his throat. “I guess it’s weird acting out a romance scene with your best friend, but seeing as it’s all fake,” Dean adds extra emphasis on the word, vindicated when Cas flinches, “I really didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal. Sorry if I was wrong.”

Cas doesn’t respond, and Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “Alright then.” Dean turns to leave, to slink off into his room to nurse his wounded pride. “Let me know if you want to talk about it, I guess.”

Dean’s already out the door when he hears his name. Taking a deep breath, he counts to ten before sticking his head back into the kitchen.

“What?”

“I didn’t want to hear some fake confession.” Cas says, voice brittle and so low that Dean has to take several more steps into the room to hear him. “I couldn’t- deal with it. Not when-” Cas turns away, voice breaking, and Dean’s gut punched to realize that he seems to be on the verge of tears. “Not when it didn’t mean anything. Not from you.”

Dean pauses, his mind struggling to connect the dots. “What are you talking about?”

Cas spins around to glare at him. “Are you really going to make me fucking say it? I’d think it should be obvious.” His eyes are bright and red-rimmed, but his face is dry, and Dean feels something painful twist in his chest.

“Cas-”, he reaches out again, but Cas jerks just out of reach.

Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t understand what you want me to do, man.” He spreads his hands wide in supplication. “But if you’re gonna be pissed you gotta talk to me. I’m not a mind reader.”

His words seem to reach Cas, finally, and the latter deflates, sagging against the counter. “I apologize,” Cas says, scrubbing a hand across his face. “It is… unfair of me to take my frustration out on you. You deserve better than that.”

“I mean, if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine. But it’s clearly bothering you and I want to help make it better.”

Cas shakes his head. “It’s not something you can fix. It’s fine, I promise. I’ll be fine-”

“Why don’t you try me, Cas.” Dean says, feeling suddenly tired. It’s been a long day of being faced with the blatant confirmation of his unrequited feelings, and Dean honestly just wants to faceplant into his bed and sleep for the next week.

“Tell me what you were going to say,” Cas blurts out, and that’s the last thing Dean was expecting.

“What?” Dean asks, but Cas is already shaking his head, covering his mouth with one hand.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Ignore me-”

“What I was going to say when, Cas?” Dean presses, but Cas is shaking his head, eyes skittering around the room like he’s planning the best way to escape. His eyes linger briefly on the game table in the living room, and that’s when it clicks for Dean.

“You want to know what I was gonna say during the game? At the very end?” There’s a burgeoning hope trying to take root at the center of his chest, but Dean avoids looking at it too closely lest it disappear.

Tentatively, Dean moves a step closer. When Cas doesn’t immediately shove him away he tries for a little more, reaching out to slide his hand down to Cas’s wrist. Cas’s eyes dart down to the contact, but he doesn’t jerk away, and Dean takes a deep breath, bolstering himself with feel of Cas’s hand in his.

“I was going to say, uh.” Dean swallows. Cas’s pulse point is hammering under Dean’s thumb, or maybe that’s just his own, and he tightens his grip automatically.

“You said that Castiel had never met anything like me, that I was special and unique in the universe, yada yada,” Dean says. “Well I was gonna say that he’s got that backwards. I say that I’ve never quite met anyone quite like him. And that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, ever.”

Cas makes a noise, but Dean pushes on, determined. “I know he’s way out of my league: that I don’t deserve someone as awesome as him. But I’d tell him that if he gave me a chance, I’d spend my entire life trying to make him happy. That we could make each other happy, forever, if he’d let us. I would tell Cas that, whenever I look at him, everything feels right.”

“You said Cas,” Cas interrupts.

“Huh?”

“You said Cas, not Castiel.”

Dean lets out an exasperated breath. “Yeah, no shit, dumbass. I was talking about you.”

“Oh,” Cas says, in a small voice. He’s quiet for a moment, and Dean struggles against the panic clawing at his chest. Finally, Cas says: “You were going to say all that in front of everyone?”

“I never said it was a good idea.”

Cas stares at him. “You never would have heard the end of it.”

“I mean,” Dean laughs, “I’ve only been in love with you for like, the entire time I’ve known you, so I’m pretty sure everyone already knows-”

Cas surges forward to kiss him. Dean grunts, caught off guard, his hands flying up to grab Cas’s shoulders. Cas’s lips are soft and hesitant against his own, every movement creating a spark of electricity that Dean feels down to his toes.

All too soon, Cas pulls back, causing Dean to make a pitiful noise as he chases his mouth. “I didn’t,” Cas says, staring at him intensely, and Dean stares at his mouth as it shapes the words, feeling as if he’s missing something.

“I didn’t know.” Cas repeats, hands coming up to frame Dean’s face. “I didn’t know.”

“Oh,” Dean says, rather intelligently he thinks, and then Cas is kissing him again.

Dean stumbles forward, hands flying up to clutch at Cas’s wrists in an attempt to get as close as possible. Cas groans, spinning them around to press Dean up against the sink.

The edge of the counter digs painfully into Dean’s back but he barely notices. Not when Cas is warm and solid against him, and Dean slides his hands hungrily up his arms, across his chest. One hand finds its way into Cas’s hair, tilting his head so that their mouths slot more fully together. And then Cas’s tongue is there, curling warm and wet against Dean’s and it’s perfect.

It seems to go on forever, one kiss leading into another, and then another. It’s like a drug, every time Dean pulls back to speak, he’s struck by the sight before him. Cas, his eyes dark, his mouth spit-slick and swollen, and he has to dive back in, dragged back under as if he can’t stand to be apart for more than a second.

“For the record,” Cas gasps, an indefinite amount of time later. “I’d say that your seduction technique was extremely successful.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean grins, sliding his hand down to graze against Cas’s belt. He’s rewarded with a groan, Cas’s hips jerking forward. “You wanna show me how much?”

Cas does. He really, really does. And Dean is more than happy to let him.


End file.
